The beginning of this chapter goes into a bit about whats been happening in the last few weeks since book 5.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I've responded to the signed reviews, but still wanted to show my appreciation for the anonymous ones.

Also, have I mentioned that this is unbeta'd? If not, it is. All mistakes are mine, though the very talented Raindropsoup did teach me volumes on proper grammar and punctuation. She now has a website with book reviews and giveaways over at theluvnv. Check it out is you're an avid reader.

Chapter 3

The moment Clary woke up, she was keenly aware of Jace's absence. Memories of her dream resurfaced, and she felt her cheeks flush in response. Reminiscing, she knew, would be a bad idea considering how horribly her dream ended. Besides, time was a hot commodity these days. Breakfast was in a half hour, and training began promptly at seven.

After folding the waistband of her black sweats over twice, Clary's pants finally fit. A sports bra and a tank top completed her training outfit. Her instructor in agility, Siska, demanded tight-fitting clothing to see the shape of Clary's body during their relentless drills. Any time she broke form—which, unfortunately, was pretty often—Siska would prod her painfully with her staff. Quarter-sized bruises would litter Clary's skin after each training session, but Siska forbade her from using an iratze, claiming that 'pain was the best teacher.'

For once, the Institute was full of visiting Shadowhunters, the rooms of empty beds now half filled. Some were members of the Clave, and some were specifically requested to help in Clary's training.

The Clave's influence stretched far and wide. Nearly every Shadowhunter knew about the current threat—Sebastian's army of demonic Shadowhunters. Only a select few, however, knew that Clary and Jace were the final pieces in Sebastian's plan, and that he would come for them when he was ready. The wards that were cast over the Institute like a safety blanket, and the virtual army of Shadowhunters it housed made the Institute the safest place for Clary, something Jocelyn had to begrudgingly accept.

Jocelyn hated the idea of Clary being anywhere other than Luke's apartment under her own watchful eye, but she eventually caved. She and Luke couldn't give her the same protection as seventy-two skilled Shadowhunters in the specially-warded Institute. On some level, Clary suspected that her mother's hesitation had more to do with the fact that Jace also lived at the Institute. Apparently, hormonal teenagers were more terrifying than incredibly powerful, demonic Shadowhunters hell bent on taking over the world. Since Jace's burning desire for Clary had a literal manifestation, Jocelyn felt her daughter's purity would be preserved. Yet again she underestimated Clary's stubbornness.

After pulling her hair into a tight bun, Clary headed to the kitchen early. She could already smell biscuits and bacon wafting down the hallway. When Maryse was here, she would make breakfast for the six of them. Otherwise, it was oatmeal, bagels, and lukewarm eggs served cafeteria-style in the Galley.

Maryse's back was facing Clary when she entered the kitchen, her jet black hair swept up in a French twist.

"Do you need any help with anything?" Clary called from the doorway.

"Thank you, Clary." Maryse gave her a quick smile over her shoulder, "Can you check on the biscuits?"

The biscuits were a golden brown so Clary pulled them out of the oven, placing them in a napkin-lined basket on the counter. Alec had just sat down when Clary placed the biscuits on the table.

He wore a wrinkled black shirt and his hair stuck out in every direction. The ice-blue intensity in his eyes had gone flat, like aquamarines that had lost their luster. Ever since Magnus and Alec broke up, Alec had been like this. What made it worse is that Magnus was constantly around, opening portals and sending fire messages for the visiting Shadowhunters—and getting paid handsomely for his services. Still, it was hard to watch the two of them together. The awkward moments of silence and lingering stares seemed to stretch on into eternity.

Alec grabbed a biscuit and started nibbling on it, his eyes trained on some spot on the wall beyond the redhead. That was when Clary became keenly aware of a presence behind her. Clary's mouth twitched up into a smile and she spun around, nearly knocking into Jace's shoulder.

"Your training is paying off." Jace's voice was full of pride.

"I'm not sure if it's the training, or just that I know you so well." She looked up into his golden eyes and longed to wrap her arms around him.

It was at that exact moment when Jace stumbled forward, reaching his arms out on either side of Clary to brace himself on the table. Jace looked over his shoulder and glared.

"Do you two ever knock it off? I'd tell you to get a room, but that seems pointless." Clary heard Isabelle's voice, full of acid, before she walked out from behind Jace and plopped down in the chair beside her brother.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Did you and your bloodsucker get into a fight?" Alec grumbled taking in Isabelle's appearance. She had dark bags under her eyes and her normally slicked back hair hung wet and unkempt around her shoulders.

"You don't look like you've been sleeping well either, dear brother. In fact," she raised her voice, "I'd venture to say that we all didn't get much sleep last night. Isn't that right, Clary … Jace?"

Clary felt her cheeks flush a deep red and walked abruptly back into the kitchen to help Maryse get the rest of the food on the table.

"Let it go, Isabelle. I told you it wasn't what it looked like," Jace threatened, leaning across the table.

"I know I'm not getting anything out of you." She eyed Jace pointedly. "So that's why I switched Clary's morning and afternoon schedule. She's stuck with me till lunch."

"Fine. Just … don't be you."

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" She arched an eyebrow in challenge.

"Pushy, blunt, and sometimes an outright—"

"Breakfast is served." Clary announced with as much fake cheer as she could muster, carrying a tray full on bacon and eggs in her hands.

The rest of breakfast passed in awkward silence. Alec pushed his eggs around on his plate while Isabelle ate like there was no tomorrow, excusing herself as soon as she was done. Jace and Clary sat in complete silence, while Maryse surveyed the teenagers with suspicion. Robert Lightwood briefly made an appearance, swiping a few strips of bacon, a biscuit, and planting a hasty kiss on Maryse's cheek before disappearing again.

As soon as Clary had finished her food, she washed her dishes and began making her way to the training room. Siska was always early and didn't like to be kept waiting. Before she had even made it out of the residential wing, she caught sight of Isabelle leaning casually against a doorway, her eyes trained on Clary.

"Go get the Gray Book and meet me on the third floor of the library." It seemed as though Isabelle had had run out of pleasantries this morning.

"Isabelle, I can't. I have training with Siska now."

"No you don't. I switched your schedule. You'll train with Siska in the afternoon, and you'll be with me all morning."

"And you've cleared this with her?"

"Yes, of course," Isabelle replied coolly.

Turning on her heel, Clary let out an exasperated sigh and headed back to her room to retrieve the Gray Book Magnus had given her. She knew it was useless to argue with Isabelle when she was in 'a mood.' Unfortunately, Clary had a good idea what Izzy wanted to talk about, and it had nothing to do with Runes. She made a mental note to have a word with Jace later. The least he could have done was give her a warning before the ambush.

Clary trudged up the winding staircase of the library, her Gray Book firmly clasped in her arms. She doubted Isabelle would let her have a chance to crack the cover of the book. Her mind raced to find the answers to the questions Isabelle would likely throw at her. She had the off-hand thought that she was going into battle—a verbal one. Clary was sizing up her opponent, preparing counter attacks, and defensive moves to lead her opponent astray if she had to.

Her nerves hummed as she folded herself onto the floor beside Isabelle, green eyes searching brown ones.

"Spill."

"What do you mean—"

"Come on, Clary. Don't play dumb with me. You're a terrible liar. I know something happened last night. I heard you moaning his name, and your scream could have woken the dead."

"It's not how it sounds."

Isabelle snorted. "Funny, that's exactly what Jace said. I didn't believe him at three in the morning when he was leaving your room in just a towel, and I don't believe you now." Her words ran out in a steady stream her face inching closer to Clary's with her eyes ablaze.

Clary's cheeks flushed a deep red. She couldn't hold Isabelle's gaze. When she cleared her throat to speak, her voice was small. "Nothing happened. At least, what you're thinking didn't happen."

Isabelle studied her for a long moment. "Convince me."

Clary looked up at her then with her eyebrow quirked in question.

"Give me a more likely story, and I'll believe you," Isabelle clarified, obviously still quite sure of her initial assessment.

"Well, you know Jace stays the night with me most nights. We can barely touch, but it's nice to be close to him."

"Yeah. Whatever. Drippy, love-sick puppy talk. Got it. Moving on." She waved her hand for Clary to continue.

"It was a dream, Isabelle. I was dreaming when I was … moaning. It wasn't real." Clary put every ounce of conviction she could into the statement, confident that Isabelle had to accept it. After all, it was the truth.

"Okay, fine. I'll take the bait. If it was a dream, tell me about it."

Clary's mouth popped open is surprise, but she had anticipated this—had to anticipate it for her own protection. She had resolved to tell her the first part of the dream, just not the end. "In my dream, Jace came into my room and told me the fire was gone. No more fear of burning me when we touched." Clary glanced at Isabelle who was staring at her intently. "Well, as you can imagine, considering the rocky history of our relationship—the sibling thing, then Jace having dreams of killing me, and now the fire—there was some pent up … tension." Clary sighed in frustration. "Do you really want me to go into detail on the rest, Izzy? After all, you heard."

"So you had sex with Jace in your dream, while he was watching you sleep." She was smiling now. "Now that's embarrassing. That still doesn't explain the scream. Did he show you his penis? I have to admit, I nearly burst out laughing when I saw one for the first time." Isabelle looked at Clary, who was staring at her like she had grown a second head. "Okay, so why did you scream, and keep in mind you still haven't explained the shower afterward."

Isabelle's mood changed as quickly as the flick of her whip. The sarcastic Isabelle was quickly replaced by the detective with her prying questions. This was the part where Clary couldn't meet her eyes. If she did, she knew they would betray her. "I was startled awake. The scream, Jace called my name and it startled me out of my dream."

There was silence, utter and complete. Of course, there were people rifling through the books on the first and second levels of the library, and the sound of shuffling pages and murmured voices could be heard below. And if Clary stretched her senses beyond the small space between her and Isabelle, she would likely hear those sounds, but instead she was lost in the weighty silence. Clary's eyes searched for any emotion on Isabelle's face, something that would tell her what conclusion she had come to. When she still saw doubt there, Clary felt her shoulders slump, prepared for more prying.

"So, you were startled awake. You definitely did sound scared. Now, what about the shower?" Her eyes narrowed on the red head.

Clary's brain scrambled for what to do. She knew the layout of the rooms at the Institute and knew that her bathroom shared a wall with Isabelle's room and also a wall with her bathroom. The tile on the floors and in the stall would likely cause an echo, and Isabelle was a Shadowhunter, with Runes on her skin to improve her senses and years of practice to hone them.

"I was disappointed when I woke up. I wanted the dream to be real. I wanted Jace to try to be able to touch me. He joked about needing a cold shower, and before he could say no or change his mind, I started the shower. I left the water cold, hoping that it might counteract a burn if he dared touch me, but all it did was chill me to the bone. He came in and turned on the hot water and tried to warm me up."

"So, you used the naked-girl-in-the-shower bit. I have to admit, I didn't think you had it in you, Fray." Isabelle studiously ignored Clary's attempts to interrupt her, very much enjoying the fish out of water scene of Clary opening and closing her mouth with big gulps of air. When she was finished, Clary burst into her retort.

"I was not naked. We were not naked," she hissed. Isabelle did believe her, but she didn't want to let that fact on to Clary. She enjoyed her exasperation too much.

"So, you climbed in the shower fully clothed to tempt your boyfriend to touch you? Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"He wouldn't even touch me if I was naked." The words flew out of Clary's mouth before she could contain them. "He's so afraid of hurting me." She was so flustered that she lost her cool. She hated the bitterness in her own voice. Shouldn't she be relieved that her boyfriend valued her safety over everything else, even over teenage hormones?

Isabelle decided to stop pressing at Clary's admission. "We're all trying to help Jace control the heavenly fire. All his training is focused on it."

"I think," she shook her head, "no, I know part of him doesn't want to control it. He thinks he's meant to use it to kill Sebastian. That Michael's blade was meant for Sebastian, and now the essence of the blade—the Holy Fire—was left within him to finish the job. He told me as much last night." Clary didn't noticed that the Gray Book had fallen to the ground. She didn't noticed that her arms wrapped themselves around her when she said her brother's name. She didn't notice how her eyes changed to an intense, deep emerald, full of rage when the name 'Sebastian' left her lips.

"You really hate him, don't you?"

"What? Who?"

"Your brother."

Clary winced when Isabelle referred to Sebastian as her brother. A brother wouldn't want to do the things he wanted to do. Still, she couldn't tell Isabelle, she had to protect that memory. To bury it deep within her mind and throw as much as she could on top of it to smother it—to drown it out. She made her face into a mask before she replied.

"Of course I hate him. He's evil, hell-bent on destroying the world. How could I not hate him?" But Clary's voice was too calm. The venom it should have held was glossed over with indifference.

"The time you spent with him—you and Jace—how was he?"

Clary's head snapped toward Isabelle, her eyes pleading with her to stop. Stop asking her questions she didn't want to answer. Her own nails dug into her skin. "I really don't want to talk about it, Isabelle."

Isabelle came up short then, realizing she had obviously hit a nerve. Usually, this was the point where she would prod and poke relentlessly until she got what she was looking for. Something told her that Clary was hiding something—something big. Something she obviously didn't want to discuss. There was a gnawing that was growing in the pit of her stomach, an uneasiness.

Without her permission her mind pushed forward images of a burning Alicante, demons running rampant in the streets. All around her was death and fighting, loss and destruction. Ichor stained the streets, stained the sightless faces of dead men, women, and children. She saw Aline, semi-conscious with a demon crouched over her small form, and as she watched Aline's dark hair turned a crimson red and her sharp, defined features softened. Slowly, reality came back into focus.

She turned to look at Clary again, looking, instead, right through her.

Clary studied her face with confusion. "Izzy?" she hedged.

Without warning she spun around and fled down the stairs, her black hair trailing in her wake. She left without another word, the same way she did that night in Alicante.

I hope this last part isn't confusing. We know in City of Glass that Isabelle felt some regret about not knowing what to say to Aline, and now, she's feeling the same thing again here, but with Clary. I'll be going into more of Isabelle's inner turmoil in the next chapter, and we will probably also see more of her relationship with Simon, too.